


Every Kiss You Give Me

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gift Giving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian gets Bull a gift for their anniversary. Just a little something he picked up on a whim...</p><p>(This is another story I wrote and posted on Tumblr a while ago, and never remembered to post here. So if you read it on Tumblr, sorry, nothing new.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Kiss You Give Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see  
> For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three  
> Oh, since the day I saw you  
> I have been waiting for you  
> You know I will adore you 'til eternity
> 
> Jeff Barry, Ellie Greenwich, & Phil Spector, "Be My Baby"

Beds have long been a problem for the Iron Bull. Either they aren’t sturdy enough to support his weight, or they aren’t wide enough for his shoulders, or they aren’t long enough for his horns and legs both. Over the years, beds have become a subtle form of torture, a series of unpleasant choices he gets to make every night. Will he let his feet hang over the end and wake with his toes tingling? Or twist his hips to the side and wake with his back aching?

All of which goes through his head in a blink as he stares at Dorian’s latest acquisition, a bed so huge it stopped Bull in his tracks halfway through the door into their room. The bed dwarfs everything else around it, the posts as big around as Bull’s thigh and the mattress so high that Dorian will need to literally climb onto it. It’s almost certainly the largest bed that Bull has ever seen, and more than big enough even for him.

Dorian stands by the fire, wearing nothing but a pair of linen trousers that hang low on his hips, somehow looking as regal as he did at Halamshiral. He’s studying his nails with careful disinterest, his chin tilted to the side as if this is all simply too dull to be endured. Except that he ruins his act by asking, with a little too much interest, “Well? What do you think?”

Bull shakes his head in wonder. “I think you’re lucky it hasn’t broken through the floor.”

“That’s what the Inquisition has people for,” Dorian says, still looking at his nails as if they’ve done something mildly disappointing. “I’m assured the floor is more than sturdy enough to hold the bed and you.”

“And what about you?” Bull teases as he finally steps all the way into the room, letting the door swing closed.

“Oh, of course me,” Dorian says. “But _I_ wasn’t the problem, was I?”

“For once,” Bull agrees amiably, and smiles to himself when Dorian abandons his nails to give him a narrow-eyed look.

Before Dorian can pick among the dozen or so scathing replies that are no doubt on the tip of his tongue, Bull moves past him to inspect the bed from closer range. “Where did you find it?” he asks, running his fingers over the smooth wood of the nearest post.

“Just something we stumbled across in our travels,” Dorian says airily.

“So you…what? Tucked it in your pack and brought it home?”

The pause that follows is unexpected, and Bull turns to find Dorian once more engrossed in the state of his fingernails. “It seemed appropriate,” Dorian says, his tone working entirely too hard at casual.

“When have we ever been appropriate?” Bull asks.

One corner of Dorian’s mouth twitches before he gets it back under control. “I am always appropriate, unlike a certain qunari savage I could name.”

He doesn’t elaborate, though, and that piques Bull’s curiosity even more. “So why did we need an appropriate bed?”

Dorian goes completely still, which is more than a little unnerving and completely undermines his casual, “ _We_ needed a bed that didn’t require me to risk my life every time I lay down on it.”

Bull is still puzzling over the emphasis on “we” when Dorian adds, “So I found one for us, seeing as there has now been an ‘us’ for a while now. A year or so, it seems to me.”

Exactly a year today, in fact. Bull hadn’t overlooked the date, but he’s been careful not to mention it for fear of Dorian’s reaction. Given the way he avoided Bull for days after the first suggestion that he could stay the night, silence had definitely seemed the safer option. Bull is regretting that, now, and regretting that the gift he’d planned to give Dorian still isn’t finished. Maybe he doesn’t plan to explain the gift’s significance, but it is a gift.

“Do you like-” Dorian coughs and starts over. “What do you think?”

Bull looks back at the bed, shaking his head slowly. “It’s something else,” he says. Straight-faced, he adds, “It is missing one thing, though.”

“From my point of view,” Dorian says thoughtfully, “it seems to be missing _two_ things.”

Bull grins. “We should do something about that.”

“Should we now?” Dorian asks, his voice dropping lower. He tilts his head as if his fingernails are the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, but he’s no longer trying to hide his smile.

Bull doesn’t need any more of an invitation than that to scoop Dorian up and toss him onto the bed. The mattress sinks under his weight but the frame doesn’t even tremble, and Bull gives in to temptation and launches himself onto the bed, landing on hands and knees over top of Dorian, who’s laughing up at him.

“Savage,” Dorian accuses, reaching up to grab his horns.

He’s not strong enough to tug Bull’s head down by himself, but he doesn’t let that stop him, using his grip to pull himself up instead so he can crush their mouths together. His tongue licks at Bull’s lips, pressing between them, and Bull’s happy to let him in, to deepen the kiss and explore his mouth until Dorian is moaning softly.

Bracing himself on one hand, Bull plants the other between Dorian’s shoulders to support some of his weight, and Dorian immediately takes the opportunity to hook an arm around the back of his neck. He’s kissing his way along Bull’s jaw now, still making little appreciative noises, pausing once or twice to nip at the skin and then suck on the places he’s marked.

When he reaches the hollow behind Bull’s jaw, he pauses to nuzzle into it. “Given that we have this lovely new bed,” he murmurs, “which will likely hold up to anything we do to it,” a pause while he bites gently at the curve of Bull’s ear, “I have a few modest suggestions.”

Bull lets his knees slide out from under him, his body settling across Dorian’s to pin him to the mattress. “Suggestions?” he asks, amused. “Like what?”

“Oh, just a few,” Dorian says, then his breath catches as Bull’s hand skims over his ribs to his hip, thumb sliding under the waistband of his trousers to stroke along the hollow at the top of his thigh.

“I thought you were making suggestions,” Bull says, when he doesn’t continue.

He gets a harder bite on his ear for his trouble, right on the point this time, and he rolls his hips downward to press his cock against Dorian’s.

“Fuck me,” Dorian whispers, lips moving against his ear as his body arches into Bull’s. “Fuck me _now_.”

Bull’s hips roll again involuntarily, and he huffs out a laugh. “That’s not a suggestion,” he says, turning his face into Dorian’s hair as best he can without gouging either Dorian or the mattress with a horn. “That’s an order.”

“Why yes,” Dorian murmurs in mock surprise. “Yes, I believe it is. Did you plan to do something about it?”

For answer, Bull twists his hand to grab a fistful of Dorian’s trousers and pulls, hard. The fabric gives way with a loud rip, and Dorian makes a noise that’s half laugh and half gasp as he tangles one of his legs around Bull’s, heel digging in to his thigh. For a moment, Bull just rocks against him, enjoying the smell of his hair and the way his muscles move as he wraps them tighter together.

When he tries to free himself at last, it’s a struggle, Dorian clinging to him until Bull points out, “I can’t fuck you like this.”

Dorian laughs again, and Bull gets distracted by kissing him. He loves Dorian’s laugh, but more than that, he loves that now Dorian _will_ laugh during sex, that he no longer treats it like a life-or-death matter.

Then Dorian is shoving him away, or at least attempting to, and Bull slides off the bed to get rid of boots and belt and trousers while Dorian extricates himself from the remains of his own clothes. By the time Bull is naked, Dorian is on his knees with his hands braced on the headboard, looking back over one shoulder. His eyes are dark, his lips parted, and even as Bull crawls across the bed toward him, his knees slip a little wider in clear invitation.

The oil is by the bed where it always is, and Dorian groans when Bull fucks him with one slick finger. His eyes are closed now, his cheek resting on his hands where they grip the top of the headboard, and Bull leans forward to drop a kiss between his shoulders. Dorian shivers, his breath coming faster as Bull adds another finger and bites the skin at the base of his neck.

Bull teases him for a long time, twisting and curling his fingers until Dorian is cursing him in Tevene and shaking with the effort required to hold still. Only when his knuckles are white around the headboard does Bull slick his own cock and carefully line up their bodies. Dorian twitches, an aborted backward thrust, and Bull smoothes a hand down the outside of his thigh.

“Shhhh,” he whispers, fitting his hand around Dorian’s hip. “Shhhh.”

Dorian mumbles something in protest, a sound that becomes one long groan as Bull slides into him. At the bottom of his thrust, Bull bends forward to rest his forehead against the back of Dorian’s neck and curl his hand around one of Dorian’s on the headboard, effectively pinning him in place.

“Now you can move,” Bull whispers, and Dorian immediately drops his free hand to his cock, stroking himself hard and fast.

If Bull had any interest in drawing this out, maybe he would say something, but Dorian is arching into him, moving to meet his thrusts, and Bull gives himself over to the moment. To Dorian’s breath against his arm and skin under his mouth and ass around his cock, to the sounds they’re both making–-to the glorious _lack_ of sound from the bed–-to the heat gathering at the base of his spine.

He doesn’t focus on how much time is passing, only on Dorian’s movements turning jerky and frantic. Every inhale is fast and desperate, and every exhale is a long, broken string of “ah-ah-ah-ah” that curls Bull’s fingers tighter on his waist. Skin slaps against skin as their hips meet, and when Dorian’s body squeezes around his cock, Bull forgets how to breathe while he fights for control of himself.

Dorian relaxes eventually, becoming almost boneless, and Bull picks up speed again, deep thrusts that have him gasping as his balls tighten. He’s close, so close, and then Dorian is gripping one of his horns, pulling him closer, and the world disappears in a rush of heat that doesn’t leave room for anything except the two of them.

They collapse together afterward, the tips of Bull’s horns gouging parallel marks in the headboard. He mumbles an apology, but Dorian, still trapped underneath him, only snorts.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Dorian says, and only he could say something like that while he sounds half asleep.

Later, after they’ve cleaned up and crawled under the blankets, Bull revels in the opportunity to stretch his legs all the way out without reaching the foot of the bed. Dorian sprawls against him, an arm and a leg flung over him, and Bull smiles in contentment, running his fingers through Dorian’s hair.

As Dorian burrows deeper into his side, Bull looks around the room–-at his armor on its stand and Dorian’s books on the table and their clothes mixed together in the wardrobe-–and thinks about the nearly-finished staff he left in Dagna’s keeping. The one with a grip carved from half of a dragon’s tooth.

Maybe he will tell Dorian what it means after all.


End file.
